Sometimes I long to write about these things. Usually at 3 a.m., which we all know is a bad time to get in touch with anyone. I long to write about our deepest joys (see "incriminating" above) and our deepest sorrows (see "mom's sleep" above). I long to share how incredibly real G0D's enemy has become in the last 3 weeks, and how we've had a front row seat to it's defeat. I long to talk about brothers and sisters gathering in power, about despair I had only read about in stories, about persecutions that redefine the word, about shackles being smashed to reveal weary ankles and deceived minds. I long to talk about coming to the end myself, and realizing that I have only just arrived at the beginning.
But since I cannot, I will leave you with a picture of the five of us driving home from Papa John's on streets that have no order, through a land bending low under the burden of spiritual oppression, while Bright reads aloud from Revelation in the back seat.
"Mama," he stops and says every few words, "what does C-h-r-i-s-t spell?" and "what is this word s-e-r-v-a-n-t?" While Zion meows like a cat and Brave chews his fist, Daniel and I look out down the road, shoulder to shoulder, our eyes fixed firmly on the prize.
